


everything is red

by Thirsty_Baby



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Boot Worship, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Slight Raye Penber slander but honestly he deserves it, Verbal Humiliation, no beta we die like men, slight degradation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirsty_Baby/pseuds/Thirsty_Baby
Summary: „What do you want, dammit?!“ she hisses.„What I want? Hm. I want a lot of things. I want money. I want strawberry jam. I want you to hurt me like you mean it. I want to fuck you and to come deep inside your tight, stuck up pussy. Oh and solving the case is also on that list.“-----------Naomi is frustrated, and apparently a stressed out brain, strong feelings of disgust and sexual attraction go hand in hand.
Relationships: Beyond Birthday/Misora Naomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	everything is red

**Author's Note:**

> yo bruh im so excited to post this, I whipped this up in six hours, literally missed my online classes bcuz of this, im finna cry brah pls tell me what u think

Maybe she should’ve stayed at home that day, spend her leave watching cheesy romance movies and wondering why Raye didn’t call or at least ask her how she was feeling. Maybe moving to America was a mistake in the first place? She never really liked that country anyway, feeling out of place in it’s pretentious inclusivity. Maybe she should’ve stayed in Japan and joined the police force, then she would’ve dated or married someone who actually appreciated her and her culture, someone who wouldn’t make fun of her accent or her temper. Maybe taking on this case, answering L’s email was the greatest mistake she’s made in her life.

No. 

It wasn’t. 

In all honesty, the greatest mistake she’s probably ever made, was look under that bed.

She should’ve left, should’ve called L and said there was nothing, and that it was more than stupid to search for something that was neither there, nor she knew existed in the first place. She should’ve told him to shove that monotone, synthetic voice up his armchair detective’s ass and go home. 

But instead she stayed. She stayed and looked under that bed.

She really shouldn’t’ve done it.

It consumed her waking days. Not the case, although it was one of the hardest one’s she’s ever witnessed, but _him_. He was weird. And she meant it in the most derogatory way she could imagine. She really meant what she had told L about him that day. He left her feeling grossed out, disgusted and angry at his weird attics. Every move he made, every word he said, every gaze he shot at her infuriated her. She hated it.

Naomi hadn’t slept well in years, ever since she moved to America, but now she almost missed the days she’d spend crying herself to sleep. Because ever since the damned day she opened that door to the victim’s bedroom, her good night’s sleep vanished completely. 

Or, well, it wasn't the sleep that vanished. At the end of the day she was incredibly tired, every single thing that had happened during past few weeks weighed her down, she barely found the strength to undress before she'd pass out. It was the dreams she had, that made her wish for sleep to never come again. 

The dull, boring nightmares that she was so used to, were sweet little children’s cartoons compared to the dreams she had now.

They all were red. It was like someone painted all her lightbulbs with blood, opened up doors to all her fucked up fantasies, and then pushed her onto a bed to have their way with her. She’d toss around, pushing covers aside, tugging at her clothes, while her red, red dreams consumed her nights. 

They’d alternate, switched between fantasies she had, but never had the chance to act upon, to fantasies she never thought about before. 

Strong, pale hands would hold her, while something red ran down her body, painting her skin. Red like blood… red like strawberry jam, way too sweet to be eaten straight from the jar. But that tongue, that damned tongue; skillfully licking up and down the pale, slender, oh so long fingers… She knew she wanted them to wrap around her throat, just as much as she wanted the owner of those fingers on a leash, at her beck and call. She wanted to to be tied up in the most delectable of ways, laying on her stomach with her legs spread, while those long, long, long fingers skillfully fucked her, and, God!, she also wanted to crush that unfamiliar, smirking face beneath her boot, forcefully open that pale mouth and spit in it, watch her saliva run down the rosy tongue that dared to mess her up that bad.

She tried to tell herself that the dark, shaggy hair was Raye’s hair, that the arrogant smirk was actually his smile, that the pale, bony hands belonged to her boyfriend, as well as the thin, lithe body hidden beneath baggy clothes. But she knew deep down it wasn’t true. 

Raye would never stand on his knees in front of her, and he would never look up with a grin, expecting her to do something bad.

Raye would also never casually admit to being a top. An aggressive top, too. _(What a lunatic.)_

Raye would never lick his lips like that. He would never crawl around the floor, or stare at her like she was made of sugar. He wouldn’t offer her coffee, and he wouldn’t have that glint in his eyes when he’d watch her choke. No. Raye was too righteous, to „manly“ for that. But… _he_ wasn’t.

Okay. 

Stopping right there.

Those nightmares messed her up. She was tired, and that’s why her brain was playing tricks on her. Completely normal. Once the case was closed and she’d get back to work, and never see him again, she’d be back to normal. She’d forget all of that, marry Raye and live a happy, beautiful and long, very long life.

That’s exactly what Naomi told herself once again when she woke up in cold sweat, her panties ruined. The thin material was soaked through completely, every single inch of her being screamed, begging for attention. Masturbation wasn’t an option. She tried, and instead of the quick release and the clear head that she so desperately hoped for, the only thing she was left behind with was frustration, and the chilling realizatoo that she not only came with the name of a certain someone on her lips, but also to the image of strawberry jam running down pale, long fingers. 

Apparently a stressed out brain, strong feelings of disgust and sexual attraction went hand in hand. 

***

He lies on the floor. 

Naomi accepts a lot of things this…. this… this freak of a man does. But that doesn’t mean she would stop questioning his sanity or questioning her own, for the matter. 

„Um… Ryuzaki?“ 

He doesn’t move, but he does glance up at her. 

„I’m a corpse.“

Of course.

The resemblance this man held to a corpse is honestly uncanny. The pale skin, the sunken in eyes, and the near anorexic frame of his body really framed the picture nicely.  
Naomi places the mugs aside, and tries not to stare, instead she tries to find clues. But looking around the room results in her accidentally tripping and stomping on Ryuzaki’s stomach. In boots. She puts her entire weight on his abdomen which of course results in the man squeaking rather loudly. It must’ve hurt if she elicited a reaction out of a corpse.

If he wouldn’t’ve been this creepy, she’d think the noise he made was cute. But he was creepy. And Naomi was undeniably attracted to his pain, so she was as creepy as him. She tries to hide her blush. 

„S-sorry,“ she says and retrieves her foot. 

The corpse keeps staring up at her, his expression unreadable. His gaze is as dark as always, but somehow it was darker, creepier now. Maybe because it was getting late, maybe because the light has shifted, but she couldn’t deny this gaze had something devilish in it. 

„What?“

Her voice is harsh when she speaks. She tries to hide her embarrassment and awkwardness somehow, but instead the question just sounds harsh and angry, unexpectedly so. 

„Did you like it?“

She stops dead in her tracks, brain running empty. 

„Excuse me?“

„Did you like it? Stepping on me, did you like it?“

Naomi stares down at him, completely at loss for words. 

„What kind of question is that?“

„Why does it matter? I asked you a question, and I want an answer.“

The dominance in his tone is way too absurd for the situation they are currently in. Naomi’s brain rattles wildly.

„Of course I did not.“ 

„That’s a lie.“

Ryuzaki lifts himself on his elbows, still lying on the floor while she is standing above him. His expression is arrogant, thin lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk. Naomi feels as if she is the one lying on the floor. Like he is in control. 

It’s not fair. 

„Did you like it? You like it when women step on you?“ Naomi desperately tries to turn the situation around. She forces herself to stay calm. 

„For the matter of fact, I do.“

That answer takes her off guard. 

All the warmth in her body seems to flood down to one spot, the air feels too hot and sticky.

„I thought you were a top.“

„An aggressive top, yes.“

They stare at each other in silence. 

Naomi doesn’t know what to say. So she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

„You can’t be a top then.“

„What do you mean, Miss Misora?“

That tone goes straight to her core and Naomi nearly chokes. His voice is insinuating and dark, the feigned respect bringing her blood to a boil. 

Fuck it. 

She carefully steps closer to the man, sits so her knees are on either side of him and then slowly drops down, straddling his legs, immediately noticing the hardness in his baggy jeans. Her skin is on fire, she never felt this powerful before.

„I said, how can you be a top, if you get a hard-on from a woman stepping on you, hm?“

His Adam’s apple bobs when he gulps. He watches her with his half-lidded gaze, eyes cloudy, dark and glinting. Ryuzaki’s thin lips curl into a dark smile.

She doesn’t let him answer, but Naomi suspected he wasn’t going to anyway.

„Are you a masochist? Do you get off on pain?“

„Yes.“ He whispers, his voice dry. Naomi licks her lips, deciding to throw her sanity out of the window as well and finally indulge in the insanity. He seemed to be doing just fine, insane as he was, so why can’t she?

She can’t contain her excitement when she finally speaks. 

„You’re filthy.“

„Yes.“

„Disgusting.“

„Yes.“

There’s a slight blush tinting the top of his cheekbones.

„Repulsive. Everything you do is gross and appalling.“

„Yes.“

„Revolting.“

He licks his lips and tilts his head in such a way that sends shivers running down her spine. 

„Yes.“

His body radiates warmth, Naomi can’t help but roll her hips, grinding against his hard cock. 

„God, you’re pathetic.“

„Oh, but you’re the same.“

He rapidly sits up, invading her personal space, his hot breath hitting her face, but instead of disgust, Naomi feels another rush of heat flood down to her core.

„You’re pathetic because you think you’re better than I am. You feel like I represent all these disgusting, revolting things you just listed, when in reality, you’re exactly the same. That’s why you want to punish me. For being just like you.“

She feels herself suck in a breath before she is able to stop herself.

„You want it bad, I can see it in your eyes.“

He moves closer, suddenly his lips are at her ear, he whispers lowly, and she feels his cock twitch in his jeans. She feels like Alice, falling for the madness he brings her in a porcelaine teacup. 

„We’re not so different, you and I. Both longing for pain, but the need to hurt others is greater, isn’t it so?“

„N-No.“ 

She lies, blatantly.

„Oh?“

His smirk infuriates her. She pushes him down, forcing him to fall back against the floor, forces him to lie like an obedient corpse again. 

„That’s my girl.“

She doesn’t understand why those words feel like she just lost. 

Nevertheless, she grabs his dainty, almost feminine wrists, and pins them above his head even though the restraint is useless, unnecessary, really. He seemes to enjoy every second, allows her to have her way with him, as she grabs his hair and tugs.

She wants him to pay for being such an insufferable pain in the ass.

_She wants him to pay for the truth._

„Hit me.“

She stops dead in her tracks once again, stares at him, doesn’t understand why it’s so easy for him to say his wishes out loud. She also doesn’t understand why it infuriates her as much as it does. 

So she punches him. The way she wanted to punch him ever since the beginning. His head whips around and stays there. A red mark blooms upon his pale cheek. Naomi feels something dark rise up in her when she watches that mark. Something possessive. She hurt him and it felt incredible, far better than any sex she’d ever had. 

His lips curl into a grin.

„Better than a kiss.“

She didn’t plan on kissing him. She didn’t plan anything at all. 

Naomi grabs him by his shirt, forcing him to look at her. There’s blood on his teeth when he grins.

„Good girl.“

The praise leaves her weak. 

She allows the fabric to slip through her fingers and leans over, slamming his boney shoulders into the floor, in the process restraining him like he’s a wanted criminal, not just a psychopath. 

„What do you want, dammit?!“ she hisses.

„What I want? Hm. I want a lot of things. I want money. I want strawberry jam. I want you to hurt me like you mean it. I want to fuck you and to come deep inside your tight, stuck up pussy. Oh and solving the case is also on that list.“

Naomi feels him run his fingers up and down her shoulder, his touch deliberately way too soft. He’s holding back, and greatly so. 

His words leave her trembling. 

She slams her mouth against his, tastes his blood, the tooth-rotting sweetness, and she can’t get enough. He’s skilled, like he’s had more than enough experience, and in all honesty, Naomi never would have guessed he had any experience at all. Beside his right hand and pillows. 

She pulls away, his taste lingering on her tongue, and he falls back again, breathing heavily. He’s so hard it probably hurts. 

Good. 

She grabs his jaw, forces it open, just like she did in her dreams, allows her fingers to play with his wet, slippery tongue before she finally leans down and spits in his mouth. Her fingers force their way beneath his shirt, she scratches his chest with all her might, desperately wishing to leave marks. Scars.

„Fuck…“

The curse leaves his mouth like a butterfly and her heart soars.

She hits him again, grinds into his cock leaving him positively dumbfounded. It was all getting too much, Naomi feared she’d leave a damp mark on his jeans if she didn’t do something quick.

„Undress.“

This time her voice didn’t waver, didn’t leave space for a question mark. He swiftly rips off the shirt he always seems to wear, lifts himself on his elbows again and looks at her all wild eyes and arrogant, bloodied smirk.

Naomi stands up, raises to her feet, slowly undoes her jeans, radiating power. She doesn’t rush, gives him a show instead. The tent in his jeans is as bizarre as the rest of the situation. 

She eases her way out of her top, throws the useless piece of fabric in his face and he scrambles to catch it. 

And then she towers above him, wearing nothing but her underwear and boots but still in control. His eyes widen and glint like they did in Anime, when characters finally get what they so desperately wanted, his mouth slightly agape, and it’s the most erotic sight Naomi has seen in… well, forever.

She lifts a boot clad foot and presses it against his pale chest.

„Now be a good boy and kneel for me.“

He does.

She didn’t expect him to obey, she didn’t expect him to be as fucked up, obedient but defying all her expectations at once.

She grabs him by his hair, guides him to her crotch and he understands. 

Ryuzaki places his palms on her hips, caressing the protruding hipbones with his thumbs. Naomi involuntarily remembers how Raye always tells her she’s way too thin. And now she’s in the hands of a fucking psycho. 

Delicious.

Thin, skilled fingers run up and down the hem of her panties before gently peeling them off, all while his eyes never once leave her face. She’d rather have him be rough than pretentiously sweet and gentle. But to tell him that was to admit defeat, she fears. 

So she allows him to nibble at her thighs, to places soft kisses upon her abdomen, as he ignores her cunt completely. Till she has had enough. 

She grabs his hair, slams him face first into the floorboards, and he laughs, maniacally so. 

„Don’t. Play. Dumb. You sick fuck,“ Naomi spits and genuinely hates him as she crushes his face with her boot.

Her cunt throbs at the view in front of her. 

She pushes his head further into the floorboards, then sets him free. 

He raises himself, sits on his knees with his hands obediently placed on his thighs, palms up, disheveled and a mess. His cock pressed agains the zipper of his jeans, body trembling slightly, eyes pitch black and blown wide. 

„Now apologize.“

He looks at her and his gaze reminds her of the Kubrick stare. It reminds her of Alex DeLarge, the horrible character from the movie Raye forced her to watch because it was _greater than anything you could have ever seen over there on your stupid little island._ She didn’t want to remind Raye of the fact that the stupid little island had centuries more culture than America could ever wish for, so she kept quiet. 

But she didn’t keep quiet now. 

„Go on, you filthy waste of space.“

„How can I apologize? Words don’t mean a thing.“

Philosophical as ever. 

„Lick my boots.“

Ryuzaki stared at her in pretentious disbelief. Will he ever stop smirking like an idiot?

„How vulgar.“

„As a live and breathe.“

„Not very ladylike, I hope you agree,“ he muses as he lowers himself to her boots, supporting himself with his hands planted into the floor. Naomi almost regrets not bringing handcuffs with her. That would’ve been fun. 

„Absolutely not, my ancestors are weeping.“  
He scoffs at her remark and finally gets to work. 

Ryuzaki licks her boots and she feels herself drip at that sight. His eyes flutter close and licks slowly, his tongue leaving wet trails on the black leather. Naomi can’t feel him through the thick leather, but she’s sure she won’t ever forget that view.

„Now kiss them.“ 

He pulls away and raises his eyebrows at her.

„Going overboard here, don’t you think?“

„Not really, no.“

He sighs in defeat and shrugs. 

„Alright then.“

Like they were negotiating their next business plan, like he wasn’t on his knees, like he didn’t just lick her boots clean. 

He kisses the black leather, then sits back up. 

„Are you gonna behave now?“ Next time she’s gonna need a whip, or a riding crop.

„Depends.“

„Eat my cunt.“

„Gladly.“

She straightens up and slightly parts her legs. Not a second later his hot tongue finally licks her clit. His hands caress her thighs and ass, as he laps at her clit, allowing his short nails to explore her skin by running his fingers up her back as high as he could, then scratching back down, leaving red, burning marks.

Naomi moans, bucks her hips further into his mouth. 

„Impatient, are we,“ he says smirking against her clit, before placing a soft kiss upon it.

She rolls her eyes, but his words have some truth to them.

He spread her folds and slowly enters her, two fingers at once.

It’s so damn good that she doesn’t care at all, supports herself on his shoulder and forces his face further between her legs. 

He fucks her with his fingers, deep and slow, while he nearly makes out with her pussy, sighing and moaning, and it almost seems pleasuring her was the greatest pleasure he’s ever felt. 

„You filthy, filthy thing,“ She breathes, her pussy clenching on his fingers, as she felt her orgasm rapidly nearing.

„As filthy as you,“ he drawls lazily, and she’d slap him, if his face wasn’t that far away. „I want you to come on my face.“

Naomi feels her knees buck at his words, and she doubles over as he continues to fuck her cunt, filthy sounds echoing through the room. She feels herself drip down his hand. If she’d have a cock, she’d love to paint his revolting, creepy face with white ropes of her cum, force her cock in his mouth and have him suck it, choke on it, then cum down his throat and have him drink it all down like a good boy. 

That thought alone is enough for her to cum harder than she ever had before. 

She cries out and rips at his hair, eyes painfully closed shut as her release drips down his fingers, sticky and hot. Naomi is barely able to stand straight when he finally retrieves his hand, observes his fingers closely for a seconds, before sticking them in his mouth, licking them clean, like he did with that damned strawberry jam.

Her thighs are sticky, panties hanging at her knees but she doesn’t care at all.

„Make yourself cum.“

His gaze is almost unsure when he looks at her. His mouth is glistening with her juices and Naomi feels a jolt in her cunt, even though she just came. 

„Seriously?“

„Seriously.“

„How.“

Naomi sucks in a breath and allows herself to smirk at him. 

„Rut against my boot like a dog.“

She can see he’s taken aback. For the seemingly first time, he’s at loss for words.

But nonetheless, he shuffles towards her leg, presses his still clothed cock against her squeaky clean boot and actually starts to move. 

„You’re so fucking easy,“ Naomi scoffs. 

„Says the person who just came on my fingers like a filthy slut.“ 

She watches him for a moment, then shoves him to the floor with the boot he was just rutting at, strides over, and steps onto his cock. 

„What the fuck are you doing?!“ His voice is high pitched and breathy, he sounds desperate, not mad. 

„Look at you, you pathetic mess.“ She accentuates her words by roughly shoving her foot in his crotch, getting him off. „You act like a pathetic child, you get off of a woman treating you like shit, for god’s sake, you crawl around like a dog and then you expect me not to treat you like one?“

His moans get louder by the second, he leans back on his hands with his legs flung open, thrusting his hips up to meet her rough, almost abusive touch. 

„And now you’re gonna cum from me stepping on you dick? You’re a disgusting excuse of a man.“

He shakes his head, whines like a dog, then comes, his hands involuntarily shooting up to hold her foot in place, while he grinds into it. His eyes closed shut, pale lips open in a silent moan, as he rode out the waves. 

It was all over, Naomi retrieves her foot and slowly sits down next to him. The room is spinning and there was not one coherent thought in her brain. Eventually Naomi decides to lie down, right there on the floor, tired but sated. 

Ryuzaki is still sitting, doubled over, heaving and trying to catch his breath. His spine sticks out through the delicate skin of his back, and it's beautiful in a grotesque kinda way.

She almost wants to ask whether he's okay, but she doesn’t care enough so she looks away, observing the old, ugly wallpaper upon the ceiling. 

Eventually, he falls back, lies next to her, once again resembling the corpse from before. They keep silent, both too lazy to move, until Naomi decides to pull up her panties. She cringes as the wet, cold fabric covers her oversensitive folds again, the phantom touch of his tongue still present upon her skin.

„How much sugar did you put in the coffee?“ 

His voice is nonchalant, maybe a little out of breath, but nonetheless, he sounds as if nothing has happened.

Naomi supposes, nothing really has happened. After all, it was all just stress, insanity and bad sleep. And it’s definitely gonna happen again, as long as he’s around.

„It’s cold now, anyway. I’ll make you a new cup.“

His cold fingers reach for her chin, and he turns her head so she can look at him. 

Naomi is almost scared he’s gonna kiss her, or say some stupid, stupid thing that’s gonna ruin it all. 

„Don’t bother. Your coffee tastes like shit anyways.“

He doesn’t disappoint her.

Naomi looks away, the faintest hint of a smile gracing her lips.

_Everything is red._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope u liked it, I worked like rly, rly hard. pls notify me if there are some mistakes, cuz im sure there are some here and there lol


End file.
